


Let's Talk About It

by ladyhoneydarlinglove



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Post-Recall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 02:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyhoneydarlinglove/pseuds/ladyhoneydarlinglove
Summary: Out on Route 66, McCree and Genji have a little chat about feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apocryphic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphic/gifts).



“So,” Genji asks, staring out onto the vast expanse of Route 66 laid out before them, all red rock and dusty highway and abandoned buildings. “How long do you think we’ll be here?” The ribbon at the base of his neck flutters with a gentle breeze that does nothing to relieve the heat of the sun beating down on them.

“Couple days, at least,” McCree answers as he goes about setting up their small camp.

He hears Genji’s head whip around the stare at him. “A couple _days_?”

“Well yeah.” McCree stands, stretching his arms over his head to release his cramped back. “It’s Remy Benoit doin’ the run this time. He likes to be real thorough ‘bout everything.”

“That can’t be right. An illegal arms run from Mexico still shouldn’t take a couple of _days_ ,” Genji insists, and McCree laughs.

“It does when you’re born and raised in the Bayou,” he says. “People from the Deep South don’t ever rush into things. They like to take it nice and slow.”

Genji snorts. “I see. Is that why you always—what is the phrase? Mosey into things?”

“Excuse you, I mosey into things because I’m from the Southwest, not the Deep South,” McCree says, one hand clutching at his chest in mock offense.

“Is there a difference?” Genji asks.

“I dunno. Is there a difference between being from Tokyo versus being from Osaka?”

Genji hums in a dissatisfied sort of way. McCree grins, his point made and won. He puts the finishing touches on their little camp by rolling out two sleeping bags over the flat, dusty rock of the little alcove where they’ve taken shelter. He briefly considers setting a tarp up as well, but there’s no chance of rain in the forecast, and their position nestled in between cracks in the rock gives them enough shade that they can just shift around if they need to hide from the sun. He smiles, satisfied with his work, and sits down on a sleeping bag, pulling out a pack of cards and a cigar.

Genji snorts again. “I hope you’ve brought more to pass the time than a deck of cards,” he says, taking a seat next to McCree.

McCree grins as he begins shuffling the cards. “Nope. Just this. Thought we could play some Go Fish and talk about our feelings, just like the good ol’ days.” When Genji would watch from the shadows as the rest of Blackwatch played increasingly rowdy games of cards, and McCree could never get him to join in no matter how hard he tried.

He expects Genji to laugh, or maybe make a snide but playful comment, but instead, Genji tilts his head slightly to the right, indicating thoughtfulness. “Do you _wish_ to talk about your feelings?” he says after a moment.

McCree blinks, caught off-guard. The cards in his hands pause mid shuffle, suddenly forgotten. “Wha—no. No of course not, Genji, it was a joke.”

“I’m aware,” Genji says evenly. “But we apparently have enough time on our hands to make it a viable option.”

McCree stares. “You hate talking about your feelings,” he says bluntly.

“I _hated_ talking about my feelings,” Genji corrects. “Now, it is not so difficult. Thought I do find it is never less awkward.” He tilts his chin up, a gesture McCree has begun to recognize as his version of a smile.

“I… I wouldn’t even know what to talk about,” McCree confesses after a moment, still staring. There is so much shit bottled up inside McCree that he has never, ever intended on letting out. He honestly isn’t sure he could survive the onslaught.

“You must have something,” Genji presses.

“Did you?” McCree asks.

“Many things,” Genji answers, nodding. “Most of which I gave up quite involuntarily in the beginning, if I could be persuaded to give them up at all.” His head tilts a bit farther to the right, and McCree wonders if Genji’s actually amused.

“And you think I’m gonna be any better?” he says. He laughs, but it comes out far more nervous than carefree.

“Yes.” The certainty in his voice takes McCree aback, makes something funny twist inside his chest. “You have lead a very difficult life, Jesse, but I think it has not worn you down quite as much as you believe.” Genji tilts his head, and even without being able to see his eyes, he radiates such a thoughtfulness that McCree’s heart stutters a little. “You see yourself as no more than a battle-hardened warrior, incapable of any other life. So you fail to realize there are still parts of you that are soft.”

He pokes McCree’s belly for emphasis, and McCree jerks back, swatting his hand away. “Hey now,” he chides, but there’s no heat to his words and he’s having a hard time keeping a smile off his face. Genji chuckles, then settles back into his seat. He regards McCree with a steady gaze, clearly waiting.

McCree sighs, tilting his head back to look up at the sky, where the sun has just begun its descent towards the horizon. He says nothing for ages, mulling over in his head what he is and isn’t ready to deal with just yet. Most of it falls very firmly into the ‘not in this fucking lifetime’ category, but there are a few things he pulls out that maybe, _maybe_ , he could try expressing.

“I missed you,” he says finally. “When you left. Didn’t think I would, given how we left it, but…” He shrugs, aiming for nonchalant and knowing he’s failed. “Wasn’t like I felt like part of me was missin’ or anything like that, but I noticed. And it was sad. I wanted you back.”

He doesn’t look at Genji as he says this, distracting himself by lighting his cigar. He takes a deep inhale when he’s finished, blowing smoke out in a steady stream. It twists and curls in the air, and then gets swept away by a gentle breeze.

Next time him, Genji shifts. McCree’s breath catches ever so slightly as Genji lays his head on McCree’s shoulder, and one of his hands finds McCree’s, twining their fingers loosely. His biolights glow softly, comforting green now instead of harsh red, and McCree wonders when Genji started being so warm.

“I missed you too,” Genji says after a moment, and brings McCree’s hand up to kiss it.


End file.
